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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448829">Picture Perfect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloliriels/pseuds/helloliriels'>helloliriels</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Best Friends, Crime Scenes, Detectives, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Memories, One Shot, Short One Shot, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:09:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloliriels/pseuds/helloliriels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to get a snapshot of John to take with him before the events of TRF. This is proving harder than he thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Picture Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short one shot prompted by some blackout poetry made recently. This one begged for more detail. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1> Picture Perfect </h1><p>Sherlock watched John out of the corner of his eye. There were several times he thought he might be able to get his phone camera out in time, but John would inevitably look up at that precise moment. <em>Damn.</em> This was going to be more difficult than he had planned. </p><p>He had no doubt in his mind (his brilliant, stewed-over-this-particular-problem-many-nights-in-his-mind-palace mind) that John would be the type of person to shy away from any photos that weren't official press. How he'd stood Sherlock's regular scrutiny was a wonder, come to think of it.</p><p>And what Sherlock really wanted here was a snapshot. Something candid, that only he would own. Personal. Something to show John was with him. Alongside. Sharing his work, and his love of detecting. He needed it.</p><p>
  <em>Need.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do I?</em>
</p><p>He asked his austere self. The side of his brain that told him <em>want</em> and <em>need</em> were two very different things. That love was a chemical defect found on the losing side. That alone, alone would protect him. </p><p>And then he looked over again at John.  <em>Yes, definitely a need.</em><br/>
This was getting to be a problem. </p><p> Sherlock imagined for a second (one point five seconds in reality) about asking Mycroft to take the picture for him using his network of surveillance - before abandoning that idea completely. He wanted this memory to be made with his own hands. Not by Mycroft's sterile touch. It would matter later. This image would be the only thing he could carry with him into the next few days, weeks, maybe even months that he had to face alone. He shook his thoughts off. Enough. Time enough to cross that bridge tomorrow. Tonight, John was here. John was with him. Maybe he just needed to immerse himself in the moment and not capture it. </p><p>He made one more feeble attempt to bring his phone out and John looked over. "I don't," he said out loud before catching himself. John looked confused at him, looked at his hand in his pocket, and back to Sherlock's face, saying offhand, "don't what?" </p><p>"Need," Sherlock replied, again catching the runaway train thoughts before they could go further, "I don't need any pictures of this body." </p><p>John, still puzzled but unfazed by it (this was Sherlock after all). He brushed his pants off and stood up. Expression writ on his face was the equivalent of any other man's shrug. He simply responded, "Okay...   what next Sherlock?" That was that. Unsuspecting. Back to normal. </p><p><em>I don’t need it. I don’t need anything.</em><br/>
He lied to himself. Still staring down at John without realizing the passing of time.</p><p>"Sherlock?" John jogged his attention back. Sherlock shook himself out of it.<br/>
"Now we see to the sister," Sherlock replied. </p><p> John followed his eyes in the direction of the other corpse lying around the corner with Lestrade's men. "Right," he took a step away from Sherlock before looking back again, "I'll head other there then." Two steps over he stopped and spun on one heel, "How?" He wondered aloud towards Sherlock. His whole body a question mark. "How do you know THAT (pointing at the other body) is THIS victim's sister?" He locked his eyes and gave Sherlock <em>the look</em>. (The 'oh-by-the-way, I know you're a genius, but could you break it down for me?' inconsequential look, like he didn't really need to be told, but Sherlock knew he was dying to know). God, how he wished he could capture THAT look on camera. He sighed. (John took this as exasperation at his own stupidity). "Her keys," Sherlock softly responded. Trying to gently let John know, that the sigh wasn't directed at <em>him</em>. And that yes, he wanted to tell him everything, and to get John's opinion in return. "Her keys. In the left hand. When she is right handed, " Sherlock went on, "the sister had just handed HER her own set of keys to go in with, when they were attacked here." He pointed at the woman at his feet to the door by the second body. Crystal clear. </p><p>"But couldn't they have been friends? Lovers?" John quipped. Sherlock shook his head, "the trust of family is stronger than friendship. These two had an unspoken trust. Unfortunately, that is what killed them." Sherlock again sighed. This time it was a deep sigh, <em>almost</em> carrying emotion. </p><p>John noticed.<br/>
"Are you alright, Sherlock?" </p><p>"I'm fine. John. Thank you." Sherlock was short. He mumbled a curse about sheep and stalked out of the room while John turned to join Lestrade and his men by the second body. They were finishing up and had disbursed as he strode over, Lestrade came up and spoke to him briefly, and then he too left.  John crouched down. Looking at the younger woman's cuff and the angle of her head. Trying to gather anything that might be of use to Sherlock. What was the silly bugger up to? John had noticed him reaching for his pocket many times tonight. Did he have cigarettes on him? Should he go follow him out and see if he really <em>was</em> okay? </p><p>Snap. The door to the room swung open again. </p><p>Never mind, John thought. He decided it was best to let Sherlock keep his secret for tonight. He'd ask him about it tomorrow if this wasn't cleared up before then. </p><p>Sherlock noticed John around the corner alone again. Lestrade's men had taken the first body off, and Lestrade himself was nowhere to be seen. This was the moment. "John, take your time." He called over. "I'm going into my mind palace for a moment." He knew that would buy him a few moments of John's averted gaze. He knew better than to speak or look when Sherlock was thinking. Unless asked to. They trusted one another.<br/>
John turned his back to Sherlock briefly, and Sherlock cursed under his breath. It had been a good idea, but it wouldn't work if he couldn't SEE John's face. "Idiot." He berated himself. This wouldn't do. How?? OH! A lightbulb came on. "John, next to you there - what is that?" John pointed to the corner trim by the dead girl's feet. "Here?" SNAP. Sherlock took the picture. "Yes, there. Unusual." He sauntered over as if taking images from a distance was not unusual for him. Perfectly normal. And got another close up, just in case it had aroused curiosity in John. "Yes. Hmmm." He knelt a while studying the trim and stains there, before moving on to snap a few more along the trim and around the girl's feet. </p><p>John would never know.<br/>
He grinned. </p><p>Browsing through the photos later that evening, he lingered awhile on the image of John, kneeling on the ground next to a body, geared up and professional looking. Inspecting a body. Working with him. Solving crimes. It made his heart happy. Now he had something to take with him after his escape from the fall. He could do this. He must. To save John, and get back to Baker Street soon. </p><p>But for now, the fall.<br/>
<em>Forgive me John.</em><br/>
<em>Stay strong.</em><br/>
<em>Stay with me.</em></p><p>He closed his phone and smiled. Picture perfect John. His one and only friend.</p>
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